


"Stay Quiet", I'm Tryin'

by Splat_Dragon



Series: Whumptober 2019 [19]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: "Hiding", "Stay Quiet", Alternate Prompt 8, Can be read as Vandermorgan, Hiding in an alleyway, Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-31 19:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21151319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splat_Dragon/pseuds/Splat_Dragon
Summary: Whumptober 2019, Alt. Prompt #8: "Hiding" and Alt. Prompt #9: "Stay Quiet"“He-!” a hand grasped his upper arm, and pulled him aside.He grunted, and twisted, grabbing for his gun, but a familiar voice hissed “Son, it’s me!” and he stilled, unable to help a wheeze as his back was slammed against a brick wall.“Shh, Arthur,” the man murmured, and when Arthur opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on he pressed his gloved hand over it, “Just stay quiet, they can’t see us.”





	"Stay Quiet", I'm Tryin'

“Come on, Arthur, come on!”

“I’m coming!” Arthur snapped, firing a last couple of shots over his shoulder, grinning when a lawman’s horse reared, startled by a bullet that struck the dirt between its legs, and dumped its rider, before darting down the side street.

Their pockets were heavy, and if they survived they’d be well fed for weeks. But that damn shop-keeper’s assistant had snuck out when he’d seen them enter the building, figuring out what they were planning before they’d even entered the shop, and set the lawmen on them the moment they’d left the building.

  


He turned around, bolted down the side street, hearing the lawmen shouting “They went that way!” and cursed under his breath, wondering if it was worth firing anything shot, decided running was more important and kept going.

_ Shit, _ where had Dutch gone? The side street was short, and he could hear lawmen ahead of him; had Dutch been caught? Surely not, he would have heard him and the lawmen yelling, but which way had he gone?

“He-!” a hand grasped his upper arm, and pulled him aside. 

He grunted, and twisted, grabbing for his gun, but a familiar voice hissed “Son, it’s me!” and he stilled, unable to help a wheeze as his back was slammed against a brick wall, Dutch a thick line of heat against him.

“Shh, Arthur,” the man murmured, and when Arthur opened his mouth to ask what the hell was going on he pressed his gloved hand over it, “Just stay quiet, they can’t see us.” He dropped his forehead to Arthur’s as hoofbeats raced by, footsteps nearing their tiny little alleyway, flattening himself tighter against him, his dark clothing helping to obscure their shapes in the shadows. They were so close Arthur could hear his heart racing in his chest, thundering from the exertion of the chase.

  


The footsteps stilled in front of their alleyway, and the pair stilled, Dutch’s breath ghosting against his forehead (he was still taller than Arthur, if only just, and hell did he hate it), hand tightening around his mouth in warning, so tight on his jaw that he felt the joint creaking, and he reached up to dig his fingers into Dutch’s forearm as his eyes watered; the man breathed an apology, loosened his grip slightly, and Arthur took a deep breath, wishing he could yawn to work it out.

  


“They’re not down here!” the lawman finally said, and Dutch heaved a sigh of relief, stepping back and straightening his clothes as Arthur reached up to rub his jaw, scowling and regretting it immediately. 

“Come on Arthur,” Dutch muttered, sticking his head out of the alleyway and looking around, “We need to hurry before they come back,” without another word, he began to jog back the way they had come from.


End file.
